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"It seems to me, Sancho--and it is impossible it can be otherwise-that

some strayed traveller must have crossed this sierra and been attacked

and slain by footpads, who brought him to this remote spot to bury him"

"That cannot be," answered Sancho, "because if they had been robbers they

would not have left this uess or explain what

this may mean; but stay; let us see if in thiswritten by which we may be able to trace out or discover e

want to know"

He opened it, and the first thing he found in it, written roughly but in

a very good hand, was a sonnet, and reading it aloud that Sancho ht

hear it, he found that it ran as follows:

SONNET

Or Love is lacking in intelligence,

Or to the height of cruelty attains,

Or else it is my doom to suffer pains

Beyond the measure due to my offence

But if Love be a God, it follows thence

That he knows all, and certain it remains

No God loves cruelty; then who ordains